if you don't terrify people a little then what's the point
The banter prevailed, and he held a wicked edge to his grin, only damned and doomed to grow more juvenile and infantile as the evening progressed. After his demonstration, the Sword made his rounds, pleased with his own performance, as the stitching was fine, well placed, practiced, and honed, and the dummy maintained a newly reformed upright position. “Two drinks for me,” he announced, based on a scale he was making up as he went along.
The monolith slid over toAisha, wandering around her target, the scrutinizing gaze never faltering despite already one beer in his hand, taken and snagged as he marched past the refreshment table. Once he’d made a thorough examination, and the target appeared to be formidable enough, he proclaimed his judgement. “Adequate. One drink.” And a dimple in his cheeky grin as he meandered towards Kiada’s.
Unfortunately for the Harpy, something had gone awry in her attempts (maybe too fast, given the time of day, the press of evening?), and he was there to witness it all. The Cheshire smile pressed into absolute mischief, and he shook his head upon surveying the dummy – mauled, ruined, and marred, the head still hanging limply, barely attached. “What a shame,” he noted with a tilt of his head, as if it wasn’t at all and he was scarcely holding back the laughter threatening, looming, in his chest. “Zero drinks. And a redo.” Sipping down his own, loudly, obnoxiously, he paused. “And you must serve the others.” Then he hastened off before Kiada could spew some vitriol at him.
He didn’t know thisBelril child, or who the hell had asked the infant to participate – because it hadn’t been him, the organizer of this ridiculous event. “Who sent you?” Pondering if this was a lie, a fabrication, or if he was going to have to meander into other diplomatic regions that he was currently striving to avoid – his eyes ghosted over the stitching. The work was well established, as if the youth had experience in the suturing. He arched a brow and narrowed his eyes, the amusement gone for a moment. “Well done. Two drinks.” Another consideration, a wayward bout of his head towards the table. “Juice.”
Chulane was last but certainly not least, based on the perfected stitching. The target appeared brand new, like it'd never been beaten to broken edges and figments moments before. Of the entire group, he’d been the one to segment tighter lines and tethers, and the Sword bowed his head, would’ve rendered some claps or applause if he hadn’t already started consuming his beverage. “Very nice work. Three drinks.” Thereafter, his gaze segmented straight to Kiada, as if expecting her to move along with the assistance.
Then it was onto the next round, and Deimos angled his way around the targets, towards his own. “Sometimes we require motivation in order to properly train.” A shrug of his shoulders indicated his indifference towards this; not a quandary of his own, but a dilemma for some nonetheless. “I want you to think of your greatest enemy, adversary, or rival, and paint them on your dummy.” The paint, brushes, and whatever other means and measures they required were on one of the other tables, and while the Harpy was busy doling out the drinks, others could figure out which figure would be anointed upon their target – effigies of the contemptuous.
--
Based on dice rolls:
Deimos has earned two drinks!
Aisha has earned one drink!
Kiada has earned zero drinks, has to redo her stitching, and serve the drinks!
Belril has earned two drinks of juice!
Chulane has earned a whopping three drinks!
Your character’s next task is to think of their greatest enemy, and paint them on their dummy! All supplies are available on one of the tables!
The monolith slid over to
Unfortunately for the Harpy, something had gone awry in her attempts (maybe too fast, given the time of day, the press of evening?), and he was there to witness it all. The Cheshire smile pressed into absolute mischief, and he shook his head upon surveying the dummy – mauled, ruined, and marred, the head still hanging limply, barely attached. “What a shame,” he noted with a tilt of his head, as if it wasn’t at all and he was scarcely holding back the laughter threatening, looming, in his chest. “Zero drinks. And a redo.” Sipping down his own, loudly, obnoxiously, he paused. “And you must serve the others.” Then he hastened off before Kiada could spew some vitriol at him.
He didn’t know this
Then it was onto the next round, and Deimos angled his way around the targets, towards his own. “Sometimes we require motivation in order to properly train.” A shrug of his shoulders indicated his indifference towards this; not a quandary of his own, but a dilemma for some nonetheless. “I want you to think of your greatest enemy, adversary, or rival, and paint them on your dummy.” The paint, brushes, and whatever other means and measures they required were on one of the other tables, and while the Harpy was busy doling out the drinks, others could figure out which figure would be anointed upon their target – effigies of the contemptuous.
--
Based on dice rolls:
Deimos has earned two drinks!
Aisha has earned one drink!
Kiada has earned zero drinks, has to redo her stitching, and serve the drinks!
Belril has earned two drinks of juice!
Chulane has earned a whopping three drinks!
Your character’s next task is to think of their greatest enemy, and paint them on their dummy! All supplies are available on one of the tables!
DEIMOS
